Gush
by CG SPAR
Summary: She was always like fire, racing hot and destroying all she touched. As he lay in his prison cell, the instrument to end his life in his hands, he reflects on the only woman he ever loved.


I've never been able to restrain myself around you. You were always my weak point; the one person who'd managed to sneak past my defenses. I was never supposed to fall in love, was never supposed to marry for anything other than to further my family name in the world.

I was eleven years old when I saw you for the first time. Saw your raven hair locks and flashing black eyes. Those dark, smoky eyes. They always were your best feature, standing out on your pale face with those plumb rosy lips that always seemed out of place, but at the same time managed to make it work. You were never the picture of what a high society beauty should be, soft and curvy in the right places, thin and rosy with health. Instead, you were hard where you should be soft, muscular where you should be plump. And I loved you for it. You were my star in an otherwise cloudy night, the pinpoint of light I could always count on to guide my way in the dark.

You never saw me though. I was simply that tool you used to placate your family, to keep your place in society despite the fact that you never really desired it. Oh, you always wanted the prestige and renown that came with being one of the fabled clan, the true nobility of society, but you never wanted the work that came with it, or the obligations. I always thought you just wanted to be able to throw it back in their faces, in everyone's faces, that you were a pureblood, and they needed to shut the hell up.

I was always the cool one, the icy one, the one with the flat and blinding exterior to the world that made others draw back in fear that I lacked any sort of personality it all. You and I were always alike in that way. Born without any sort of moral compass, destined to maim and hurt those around us for sport and for fun, simply for shits and giggles. You were the only one to ever arouse that fury within. I think you did it for fun. Sleeping with other men, particularly in our bed, just to get the rise out of me.

Apparently I'm more fun when I want to rip your head off.

But you never, ever loved me, and it always destroyed me. I've loved you since I was eleven years old, and you only ever used me for my connection to Him. The one man you did love. But now he's dead. Killed for a second time, by Harry Potter. In a way, I'm grateful to that little twerp. He destroyed the only thing you ever held dear, and all I can feel is satisfaction. That for those brief few moments, you knew what it felt like to be me. Married to you for all those years, hidden in the shadows, only good for when you needed a partner for a mission or a good fuck afterwards.

It was always you I thought of, when I tore the Muggles to shreds on our missions. It's you I think of now as I run my thumb along the sharp edge of sliver of rock I've managed to chip out of the cell wall. It's flat and about as long as my hand, and suddenly reminds me of the knives I used to carry. How they used to make you laugh in delight when I used them on someone. "Oh you." You used to laugh. "Didn't anyone ever tell you not to let it get personal?" But then you would watch avidly as I meticulously sliced each one to pieces, carefully in such a way to prolong the agony.

It's that I think of now.

I see your face twisted in agony, eyes open and blind in death. The fury and pain I felt ripped through me like a hurricane, dulling my senses and as I tore through any and all Order members around me, it was as if they couldn't touch me. Fueled by grief and rage, I was unstoppable for those few minutes until I was captured with the death of all my fellows.

A snarl races through my body as I plunge the wicked sharp rock into the artery in the side of my neck. The warm blood starts to gush out, pulsing in time with the beats of my heart. A scream tears itself from my vocal cords, echoing off the stone walls as the life drains from my body. As my vision fades to white, all I can think of is you, my Bellatrix.

* * *

A/N: I'm sure y'all guess who's reflecting on Bella. S'not that hard anyway. Anywho, I know Bellatrix was actually killed first, then Voldie, but I felt like it was more dramatic if she watched him die. -shrugs- First HP story, if it sucks, feel free to flame. I won't be offended.


End file.
